by Payge Galvin
He held out a hand to her. “I’m Max,” he said.
“I know,” she told him. “I’ve been doing some research.”
Now that was unsettling, especially since she was the one person whose name Max didn’t know. All this time, Max had been assuming he was the only one researching his Coffee Cave co-conspirators. She flashed him a disarming smile—the sort of smile Max should have known better than to trust, because he was so good at them himself. “I’m Jess,” she said. “You’re a reporter, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” Max said warily, but then he gave her a you-can-trust-me smile of his own and waited to see what game Jess was playing. A voice inside him whispered that he was tired of games, but he reminded himself that he had to see this thing through, one way or another.
Jess glanced toward the doorway, and Max saw a chestnut-haired, square-jawed guy standing there holding a drink, watching them both. What game, indeed.
“I saw your article on Blake Malone, and the one on Dillon Varga too,” Jess said, more quickly. “I’ve been worried—about the murder and the others—so I’ve been looking. When I realized who you were and what you do ...” She took a deep breath. “There are some things I need to tell you.”
Max realized there was something he needed to tell her, too. Did he really think this was only about him and his story? He glanced uneasily at the bruiser in the doorway and lowered his voice. “You didn’t kill him, you know.”
Jess blinked at him. “Oh.” She smiled again, a real smile this time, one that lit up her whole face. Her shoulders relaxed, as if he’d told her something she’d needed to hear, but her next words were simply, “I do know. Thank you.”
“Also, whoever did kill him is after the money,” Max said.
“I know.” Something—concern—flashed across Jess’ face and was gone, making Max suspect she’d found that out the hard way, just like him, just like who knew how many others of their co-conspirators. But before he could ask about that, she pressed on, “And I think I know something else, too, about whoever did kill him. It was an inside job.”
“Well, yeah. Someone in that room—”
“Not an inside job by one of us,” Jess said impatiently. “An inside job by one of them. Someone else connected with the Cave.”
She knew who had done this? After all of Max’s searching and interviewing? “No offense, but why are you talking to me, then? Why not go to the police?”
“I don’t know who did it,” Jess said. “Just that it was an inside job. I’d love to figure it out myself, but the only detective work I can do is in a bio lab. Also Declan and I—” She glanced toward the guy in the doorway again. He wasn’t bulked up, but his slender frame was all muscle. “We’re leaving town. But since you’re a reporter, I thought you might ... Well, you might have the skills to investigate. And if you solve it, you’d get to break the story. Which would be good for your career, right?”
She said it like the idea hadn’t even occurred to Max until right now, and he nearly laughed aloud. Here she was, suggesting he do the very thing he’d been obsessing about all summer, and suggesting it like it was some shiny new possibility. She had no idea how much he’d put into trying to solve this thing already.
Jess winced. “I understand if you don’t want to get involved,” she said, too quickly. “I know it’s my responsibility. I fired that gun. But ... well, while there’s no excuse, I did it to protect someone.” She gave him a look so earnest and serious that the laughter died on Max’s lips. “That’s why you guys agreed to cover it up, because I wasn’t a cold-blooded murderer. Whoever actually killed him, though, they just wanted him dead, and I can’t let them get away with that.”
God, she actually wanted this story broken because it was the right thing to do, not because it would make anyone’s career or prove anything to anyone.
Max was an asshole. An asshole who’d been doing this for all the wrong reasons. Oh, occasionally he’d told himself there were other reasons, too, that the killer needed to be caught and brought to justice anyway, but until now, mostly it had been about proving himself, to Claire and to himself.
“You don’t want to do it,” Jess said, misreading his silence.
“Oh, I want to do it,” Max said. For the first time, maybe, he wanted to do it for the right reason, because it needed doing.
“So will you?” Jess asked, a challenge in her voice as she flashed all the force of those earnest eyes on him.
Max had given up on so many things through the years: majors, possible careers, even, in a way, Claire. What had he been thinking, letting her just walk out that night? It was time to finally see something through.
He looked Jess right in the eyes, neither of them flinching now. “You better believe I will,” he told her.
‡
An inside job. Max stopped stalking the others who’d been inside the Cave that night, and started searching records on the Cave itself with new energy. He got a list of employee names, from the baristas on up to a handful of investors and the owner, one Jason Haley, but none of them seemed to have a record of drug convictions or other petty crimes. Which maybe just meant whoever had killed Douglas Coughlan was very, very good at that job.
Still, it was a new starting place. Max went through his new suspects’ Facebook pages, property tax records, everything he could find. Only Jason Haley and the investors owned anything worth noting. You didn’t work as a barista at The Coffee Cave if you had a 401K and a string of mutual funds. The only thing Max could find for sure for everyone connected with the Cave were cell phone numbers.
Cell phones, of course, had all sorts of information on them. Calendars. Appointments. Emails. Pictures. Data.
Max should have thought of this sooner—though he knew now from Jess he’d have been wasting his time if he’d dug any deeper into the eleven folks at the Cave the night of the shooting anyway. But he knew from his time as a computer science major that cell phones were also not nearly as secure as most people thought. If he could get ahold of the cell phones belonging to this new list of suspects, he could hack into them without breaking a sweat.
But even without a physical cell phone in hand, the data on phones wasn’t as secure as most people thought these days, thanks to the wonders of cloud storage.
Max couldn’t hack into a cell phone whose location he didn’t even know. But he knew someone who could.
Paula. His computer science professor.
The only problem was, Paula was crazy.
Chapter 13
Max
Paula wasn’t just a TA. She was full-fledged faculty. She’d been assistant professor for Max’s Intro to Computer Science course at some ridiculously young age, like in her early 20s. That was three years ago, and she’d since gotten full tenure.
Max had to solve a computer science logic puzzle just to find Paula’s office location and hours. Fortunately, there was a whole student web page devoted to the solutions to Paula’s crazy puzzles, because thanks to Paula, Max technically hadn’t even finished his first semester as a CS major, and her puzzles were more complicated than figuring out the security codes on someone’s phone. Those puzzles were the least of the things that ought to have gotten her fired, except that her award-winning encryption research—and, more importantly, the file protection software resulting from it—had won ASU Rio Verde several multi-million dollar technology licensing contracts. Paula was a genius, and she’d made the campus a hell of a lot of money by being one.
Max knocked on her door. It slid open, and Paula looked up at him from behind her desk. Her eyes narrowed on Max, looking him over from head to toe and lingering on bits it was totally inappropriate for faculty to notice in between. A glint of mischief flickered in her green eyes. “Oh,” she said, drawing out the word. “It’s you.” She laughed, managing to sound disdainful and amused at once. “What is it? Mark, Maurice, something like that?” She tossed her long braid over her shoulder. Wild red curls escaped from it and fell onto her forehead.
“Max,” he grumbled.
“Ah, yes, Max.” Her words sounded amused, too, as they rose above the faint hum of the banks of computers that lined her office walls. She wore jeans and a T-shirt, with the words Unzip Those Files stretched tight across her ample chest. “Have you come to take me up on my offer?” she asked. There’s still time to get that Incomplete off your record.” The childish mischief in her eyes caught fire.
What she’d wanted from Max to raise the grade of his failed final project hadn’t been childish at all. Max had gone into her office after he saw that grade, his disarming smile turned up full force, confident he could talk his way out of it somehow.
Instead Paula had given him a ... counteroffer. When Max had refused to take her up on it, she’d given him an Incomplete instead of an F, and told him to come back when he was ready to finish what he’d started. He could have fought it, taken it to his advisor and the administration—some things even multi-million dollar contracts couldn’t get you out of—but by then Max had been losing interest in computer science anyway, so instead he just walked away. It had seemed the easiest thing to do, at the time.
“Oh, this isn’t about a course,” Max said, forcing his smile into place, even though that smile had failed him with Paula once before and, if he was honest, had been failing him all summer too. “I need something else. Something more.”
“Ooooooh ... really?” She tossed her head back, laughing still. “Do tell.”
Keep smiling. Just keep smiling. “I need to hack into some cell phone data.”
“Oh, now that doesn’t sound very legal, does it?” Paula’s eyes were bright with interest
“Oh, it’s not,” Max assured her as he crossed the room to her desk. “But aren’t you the one who taught us that human laws are just one more set of firewalls waiting to be breached?”
“Oh, but surely you can’t imagine I approve of actually breaching them,” she said, with no sincerity whatsoever.
“Nah,” Max said, with the good-natured shrug that went along with his smile. “I was just kind of wondering if you even could. Seeing as I don’t have the actual phones or anything. But if you’re not up for the intellectual challenge, hey, you have work to do, right?” Max began to turn away.
Paula laughed then, laughed and laughed. Max stopped mid-turn, waiting as Paula hopped lightly over the desk and grabbed his collar, pulling him toward her. “Oh, I’m up for it.” She traced a fingernail along his cheek, the red polish at odds with her t-shirt-and-jeans geek girl look. “But I want to know what’s in it for me.” She looked right at him, and her bright eyes were laughing, too. “If you want me to do this, the terms are the same as they were for the Incomplete, slacker-boy.”
“Speaking of things that aren’t quite legal,” Max said lightly. Not to mention in violation of pretty much every code of faculty conduct the university had. “What, do you have something against cash?”
“Oh, you can’t afford me on an undergraduate’s income,” Paula said.
Max bit his tongue to keep from telling her that, just maybe, he could. Explaining how he had a hundred thousand dollars to buy this info with would raise more questions than his wanting the info in the first place.
“You know what’s funny Max?” Paula paced the floor, circling around him like a mischievous cat. “Three years ago, I was only kidding. I didn’t think you’d take me seriously, or believe that I’d really raise your grade point average by five points for ...” She smirked. “Five points for each piece of clothing you took off. Not that I have anything against seeing the bells and whistles beneath your casing up close. You’re not exactly hard on the eyes, Max. But back then that sort of shit would have gotten me fired, no matter how many shiny patents I earned for the university’s mantelpiece. I thought you knew that. I thought you’d just laugh it off—well, okay, and if I was lucky blush prettily and get highly flustered for my amusement—and that then you’d finish the goddamn work.”
“So maybe I was young and stupid.” Max laughed, too, not letting on that he’d been young and stupid and flat-out mortified. “I’ve ... learned a few things. But you just said that back then you would have been fired.” He met her gaze. “What about now?”
“Oh, well, now.” She traced another finger down his cheek. “Now, I have tenure. Plus, what you’re asking me to do is just as shady as what I’m asking you to do, so we’re both screwed if either of us says something. The question is, how much is that data worth to you?”
How much, indeed? He’d never had to answer that question with Jasmine, because she’d backed out first. Paula, he was pretty sure, had none of Jasmine’s boundaries and limits. If he gave her what she wanted, he’d get what he wanted. Simple, if he just ignored the uneasy feeling crawling down his spine.
Max had sworn to see this through, no matter what it took. “I have six mobile numbers,” he told Paula. Three baristas, the owner, and the two top investors, who had way more invested in the company than anyone else. “I want everything that’s on those phones.”
Paula smiled, a slow cat’s smile, and pulled the shade down over the window. “Okay then. One piece of clothing for each number. Seems fair.”
“Since when were you so concerned with playing fair?” Max asked, forcing a teasing edge into his voice.
“And what are you planning to do with this data? Stalk some exes?”
No! It was all Max could do not to say it aloud. What did she think he was?
He was in her office, ready to let her set the price to illegally hack into the phones of complete strangers. Maybe he should be asking himself what he thought he was. But he only reached out and traced a teasing finger along Paula’s lips. “That info would cost more than I think you can afford.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” Paula said. “Seeing as you’re the one who hasn’t even landed his first grown-up job yet.” Her tongue flicked out to lick his finger as he drew it away. “So here’s the deal. This isn’t about grade-point-averages anymore. One piece of clothing for each number I hack and download, like I said.” She took a thumb drive from her desk and tossed it in the air. “You see this through to the end and you get a drive with the data,” she said as she caught it. “If I’m feeling generous, maybe I’ll wipe away the Incomplete, too.”
Max did a quick mental inventory of his wardrobe and nodded. “Deal.”
“Also, the shoes come off before we get started. Advance payment for booting up and putting some ... protections ... into place so no one can trace what we’re doing.”
“Protections,” Max said, doing his best to look amused. Like this was all just a game to him. “So you don’t believe in just pulling out?”
“Baby, there are some nasty viruses out there.” Paula stepped around the desk and pulled a laptop from a drawer. “My computer. Wouldn’t want to use university property for extracurricular purposes.” While Max kicked off his shoes, she hopped up on the desk, put the computer in her lap, and booted up.
As she began to type Max stepped around to look, but Paula shook her head. “Nuh uh. No peeking. I don’t share my passwords on the first date and besides, I want you where I can see you.” She hummed under her breath as she kept typing. “Remote backups are the best thing to happen to the hacker community in ages. Way harder to get at a drive locked in someone’s desk drawer. Now then, what’s your first number?”
Max gave it to her. “I thought you weren’t a hacker, but a security expert.”
“Semantics, semantics. Or are you an English major now?” Paula’s legs hung over the edge of the desk, tight jeans outlining her strong calves. Her fingers stopped clacking over the keys and she looked down at him, waiting.
Max let his gaze linger on those calves—made sure she saw it lingering—and then he tossed his tie toward her like he was glad to be rid of it.
Paula caught it and ran it through her fingers. “Silk. Nice. If you ever graduate you can save it for your interview suit.” She draped the tie around her neck and kept typi
ng. “Oh, this number’s with Rio Verde Cellular. That’s almost not enough of a challenge to count.” She flashed Max a wicked grin. “But it does.” She plugged in the flash drive. “Next number?”
Max read that one out to her too, then tossed his belt after his tie.
Paula draped it around her neck as well before going back to the keyboard. “Right. Next?” She looked up at him, making it clear she was looking forward to this.
Max met her gaze with a smile, and he didn’t break it as he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it across the room. It landed draped over the laptop’s screen.
Paula tossed the shirt aside as her gaze found Max’s chest. “Nice. You’ve filled out.” She hopped off the desk and ran a finger from his collarbone down to his waistband.
Max brushed it playfully away. “Touching wasn’t in our agreement,” he said.
“Yet.” Paula flashed him a wicked grin as she returned to the laptop, standing now. A few more keystrokes, and she looked up at Max, waiting for the next number.
He gave it to her. Paula kept waiting, a bemused grin on her face, as Max reached for the button of his slacks. He hesitated for one what-on-earth-am-I-doing moment.
He knew what he was doing. Seeing this through. Getting my story no matter what it takes.
“Need any help?” Paula said.
“I can undress myself. I’m a big boy.”
Paula kept grinning. “That remains to be seen.”
Not if Max had done his math right. He met Paula’s eyes again as he stepped out of the pants, tossing them to her as if there was nothing humiliating about doing so at all. Paula let them fall to the floor. She reached toward Max, but he stepped out of reach. Paula mock-pouted as she looked down, her gaze lingering in all the wrong places. “Hearts. Nice.”